


Downtime

by crowleyscuddlebuddy



Series: "It's all very West Side Story" [6]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, Established Relationship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-05
Updated: 2013-04-05
Packaged: 2017-12-07 14:21:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 484
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/749502
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crowleyscuddlebuddy/pseuds/crowleyscuddlebuddy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set in the year between season 5 and season 6, Cas and Crowley spend a quiet night together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Downtime

Even the King of Hell had some downtime and, no, stroking cats in a menacing manner wasn’t what he chose to do with his free time. He was a well known dog person, for Pete’s sake. A hell hound person, to be more accurate, and too much petting turned them soft and that was never a good thing for a hellhound to be.

And Growley was getting soft enough, lately, as it was, thanks to that damn angel almost permanent fixture on his homes.

Crowley had woken up more than once with a big mass of hellish beast half on top of him, breathing down sulfur all over his face, because Cas insisted on letting the bedroom door open for it, when the weather started getting colder.

Damn angel, Crowley thought lazily, from his position reclined against one of the arms of the leather couch that belonged to his living room, with one leg stretched on top of the coffee table. He barely could find in himself to care about the hellhound using his foot as a pillow, drooling all over his newly acquired Italian loafers.

Beside him, Castiel sat in a similarly indolent manner, his side resting almost completely against the King of Hell’s. Cas' remarkable baby blues stared at the movie shown in the plasma screen fixatedly. This was one of those rare times Crowley had managed to convince Castiel to let him impart some culture upon him and by God did he seem to be taking the whole thing comically serious. Crowley didn’t notice the small smile that came to play on his lips as he stared at the rumpled angel with the perpetual bed hair and forced himself to look back at the television. The Nazi footage was a one-time thing, more about setting the mood to entertain the plaid wearing nightmares than anything.

He hated being a cliché but sometimes clichés were effective.

Right now they were watching something French he could barely recognize. He belatedly wondered what happened to the movie that he originally picked. Had it finished already? Crowley moved the arm that had been resting on the back of the couch and rubbed his eyes, trying to chase away the need to sleep.

What happened next that gave him the smallest of startles.

Crowley wasn’t one to get self-conscious over the fact his vessel wasn't exactly an underwear model. He was a sexy beast and he could dare any pretty boy to get as much quality ass as he did, if he cared for that sort of thing. So it secretly endeared him to no end when Cas, still with his eyes fixed dutifully on the plasma screen, let gravity take over and came to  rest his head on the gentle swell of Crowley’s abdomen. The demon threaded his fingers through the angel’s silky dark locks and tuned out everything else.

It was all rather cozy. 


End file.
